March 1st, dawn light spread over everything, warmth all around.

In a corner of the bluestone yard, thirty or forty spear shafts, snapped in half, were piled to one side. Xie Liuhao tossed a newly broken shaft over and muttered, “Time really flies, blink and we’re already at this day…”

This newly replaced spear shaft wasn’t made of ordinary material — it was a heavy-duty lance pole, made of hardwood at its core, wrapped in bamboo strips, bound tightly coil by coil with sturdy cotton thread, then soaked through with oil, and finally layered with kudzu cloth and coated with glue over and over until fully dried… repeated again and again, until the shaft became incredibly sturdy, with the heft of iron even when cutting through the air.

And yet another pole had broken! What could be done? The little immortal maiden was simply a monster — she’d been beaten for only a few days and had already learned to project internal energy outward. Wasn’t she supposed to not fight back? Even the springy white wax-wood poles snapped before they even touched her.

Everyone was at a loss. They’d just switched to lance poles, and sturdy as those were, they’d been broken again within half a day…

No one knew what technique the little immortal maiden used, nor did anyone see her exert any force — but as long as the pole touched her, she’d find just the right spot, give it a light, deft pinch with her hand, and the pole would snap cleanly in the middle.

The first time a lance pole broke, even the well-traveled Old Xin had been startled… who would have thought such talent belonged to a young married woman from an inner household?

This little immortal maiden was quite amusing — she absolutely refused to admit she was a martial arts practitioner, and stubbornly insisted she was just an innocent housewife.

Having spent this much time together, everyone had finally learned each other’s backgrounds — whatever had been hidden was now out in the open. Xie Liuhao and the others had long since stopped caring, having grown used to the whole affair — whatever happens, happens!

Hearing Xie Liuhao’s sigh, Qiqian’er rubbed her own neck and snorted, “What? Haven’t you had enough of hitting me?”

Xie Liuhao felt both admiration and fear toward her, and understood the reason for her bad tone — one only had to look at all those broken poles to know. Not being allowed to fight back for so many days — no wonder her heart was so full of resentment.

He gave an awkward laugh and said, “Look at what you’re saying, how would I dare! With these skinny little arms and legs of mine, I wouldn’t even be enough for you to crack once!”

He really was puzzled — why did she like pinching things so much… and she hadn’t even turned around yet when she pinched it so skillfully, so cleverly.

Qiqian’er was in a bad mood, and Old Xin wasn’t doing well either.

He sat up high, eyes fixed on the distance, unmoving, like a statue.

A stack of white funeral notices sat beside him, weighted down with a stone as tall as a chopstick so the wind wouldn’t blow them away.

For two or three days now the old man had been gloomy. He was reckoned as a senior elder of great standing among the martial families of Baiquan Mountain, within five hundred li around Yandu — disciples of the Beggars’ Sect were not permitted to sit at the table, only to beg for food under the eaves by the door.

And yet, how many children of how many martial families had he watched grow up.

When they were born, he’d go, smiling, to beg a bowl of celebratory noodles; on their full-month day he’d go mooch a bowl of hot soup; he’d walk his little beggar disciples past their doors, watching them totter through their first steps until they finally stood tall and unshakable as men… These sheets of paper weren’t just paper — they were lives!

As one grows old, the heart softens. Some people liked to put on airs and live as reclusive sages — that was their business, but the Beggars’ Sect had always lived among the mortal dust of the world, and this pained him.

The old man had begged for food at the doors of those very children, and those younger ones, being open-hearted by nature, had never once turned him away — no household ever let him go without a pot of good wine. Sometimes, in good spirits, the old fellows would sit right on the ground, drinking in big gulps, talking of times past and present. When he was happy he’d give a few pointers, and they’d spar with each other — how joyful it had been back then, truly delightful!

That Pang Tu had gone to the capital to defy the imperial court, and it was the Baiquan Mountain martial families who’d suffered bitterly for it. Now then — how many lines of the Baiquan lineage had been cut off?

Zhou Wujiu and Xie Liuhao looked at each other, then walked together to beneath the rock and bowed in salute: “Grandfather Xin, we’ll be taking our leave now.”

Old Xin startled awake suddenly, looked down, gave an “ah,” and hugging that stack of white notices, hopped down off the rock. “Oh dear! Leaving already — these past few days have been hard on you all. Look at this, so many of your armory’s spear shafts broken — how will you explain that to your superiors when you get back?”

Qiqian’er, hearing this, was faintly startled, and looked at Xie Liuhao and the others, “Is that really so? Then let me give you some silver, so you won’t be implicated because of me!”

Zhou Wujiu laughed upon hearing this. He waved his hands repeatedly. “Elder, little immortal maiden, please don’t think that way…” He pointed at Xie Liuhao. “This fellow here is the sixth-born in his family. His eldest brother is Xie Yihao — I wonder if the elder knows of him?”

Xie Liuhao lowered his head, somewhat embarrassed. Old beggar Xin, hearing this, finally showed a trace of a smile on his long-gloomy face. “I said this lad’s name sounded awfully familiar — so he’s the own younger brother of the Northern Enforcement Commandant!”

Xie Liuhao’s face flushed red. He bowed first to Old Xin: “I’ve brought shame to my family! Many thanks to the elder for these days of guidance — please don’t laugh at me! I was sickly as a child, so my family never disciplined me the way they did my brothers. This little token I now wear — it’s only because they let me win out of respect for my brother’s face. If I hadn’t met the benefactor Qiu, and you, and the little immortal maiden…” He turned and bowed deeply to Qiqian’er. “I’m no longer who I used to be.”

Qiqian’er, rare for her, nodded without any trace of mockery, though her tone remained hard. “Mm, I can see that.”

No wonder her temper was bad — there was a ball of fire nurtured in her dantian, deliberately cultivated there by Old Xin, never let loose, never allowed release, all while waiting for that Pang Tu.

With such heat built up, a person naturally grows restless.

Zhou Wujiu and Xie Liuhao glanced at each other, then laughed together and cupped their fists. “This has been quite the strange fated encounter. Elder, immortal maiden, rest assured — even if it costs us our lives, we will never leak a single word of your affair…”

Suddenly, from down the mountain, came the sound of hurried bird-calls they’d grown used to hearing these past few days.

The formerly relaxed atmosphere instantly turned tense.

Qiqian’er and the others exchanged glances and withdrew behind a large bluestone to one side.

Before long, several young beggar boys arrived, leading a woman dressed in mourning white, along with three small children barely tall enough to reach the steps. They came before Old Xin and, holding up the white notice, all knelt down together.

The white notice the woman held was extremely plain — it didn’t say who it was for, nor who had died. It was simply a folded white sheet of paper reading: funeral announcement from the prosperous households of Baiquan Mountain.

Choking back tears, the woman said, “Grandfather Xin, this young one has come to report a death to you. My father-in-law, and… my husband both passed away yesterday!”

Old Xin slowly reached out his hand and took the two white notices, and it was a long while before he spoke. “Your household is small and modest — how did it come to you, and with two men who held up the household at that?”

The young woman gave a bitter smile. “Those who don’t need to go, even with flourishing descendants, won’t be made to go. Those who must go — even with only two men in the family — must go regardless…”

Having said this, she untied a wine gourd from her waist and handed it to Old Xin. “My husband said, before he left, that if he didn’t come back, I should bring this to you — he said that four years ago he’d promised that if he had a son, he’d send you a pot of good wine!”

Old Xin took the wine gourd, and looking at the still-innocent young child kneeling beside her, only a few years old, said after a long while, “Good! This old man accepts this pot of wine today. When he turns eight, send him to my side to be a little beggar for a few years — as long as you’re willing, as long as you can bear it…”

A trace of resolve appeared on the woman’s face. She immediately scooped up the youngest child and had him kowtow to Old Xin.

“I’m willing!”

Old Xin reached out and felt the child’s bone structure, and finally, smiling, comforted the woman. “Good! Good! Fine bones, and he looks like his father too. Don’t worry — endure a few years… he’ll surely grow into a man who stands tall and unyielding…”

The despair on the woman’s face slowly eased, and at last a trace of joy appeared.

But before the old beggar could finish speaking, the little girl beside them, who’d kept her head down the whole time, suddenly spoke up: “I’m not a man, but I want to come too. Grandfather, please take me in as well!”

Afraid of angering the elder, the woman hastily pulled at her daughter. “You’re a girl — what do you want to learn this for?”

But the girl shook off her mother’s hand and shuffled forward on her knees to Old Xin. “Grandfather~ I want to kill Pang Tu! Please take me in too…”

Standing behind the rock, Qiqian’er watched the mother and her three children, and felt her inner fire stir violently, unbearably so. She had already seen more than one wave of such orphans and widows.

Zhou Wujiu, normally composed, was also seething with suppressed anger off to the side. “It’s a pity I’ve already joined the Jiu Si Tang! Tomorrow that murderous scoundrel will be passing through Qingfeng City!” He struck the rock beside him with his fist, saying bitterly, “Our division commander ordered the two of us to guard within the city, with everyone else keeping watch along the route… The Chief Commander said, if any more righteous ones come forward, we must absolutely intercept them — the lives of Baiquan Mountain’s people cannot bear any more holes punched into them…”

Xie Liuhao nodded as well. “That’s right~ truly~ enough! My family isn’t part of Baiquan, but I truly admire them from the bottom of my heart! After all this, anyone in this world with conscience and sense won’t dare look down on the Baiquan lineage again. This time, thanks to the righteous fighters of Baiquan Mountain throwing everything they had to block him, otherwise no matter which side’s martial artists it was, the court would have branded them all the same. It’s just such a shame! They all died for nothing — in the end that bastard still got past our Qingfeng City. Five hundred li of land, dozens of men bled into rivers, yet couldn’t stop Pang Tu’s advance. Tell me, what was Yuegong Mountain even thinking? In the old days, when something like this happened, with so many lives of the old and young sacrificed for the sake of reputation, that mountain sect would surely have recalled their order. How could they be so heartless this time?”

Qiqian’er, without turning around, said, “You said it yourselves — one needs conscience, and one needs sense.”

The woman kowtowed once more to Old Xin, then led her three children down the mountain.

Qiqian’er emerged from behind the great rock and walked slowly to Old Xin’s side. “You stubborn old man, wouldn’t it be simpler if I just challenged him to the dueling platform?”

Old Xin pulled the stopper from the gourd and took a fiery gulp. “Dozens of lives given up, and still he got into Qingfeng. The men died for nothing.”

Qiqian’er laughed mockingly. “Scheming against me!”

Old Xin gave a bitter smile. “No choice, is there? Our men are all dead — would you have settled the score for us?”

Old Xin had sent notices up the mountain time and again, timing it deliberately just so — it was all a scheme against Qiqian’er.

Originally, it had been agreed that Qiqian’er would also post a civilian notice, formally challenging Pang Tu, in accordance with the court’s laws.

But if the martial families of Baiquan Mountain let Pang Tu pass into Qingfeng City, into Yandu, from then on they’d be standing against the imperial court.

Each side was in a difficult spot!

The mountain wind blew past, lifting the corners of the white notice weighted down by the stone.

Qiqian’er looked down at Qingfeng City below the mountain, and a sudden clarity rose within her — in truth, everything had already changed.

From the moment she’d decided to do a good deed, from the moment she’d leapt onto a rooftop, she was no longer that woman of the inner household.

Seeing her stay silent for so long, Xie Liuhao grew somewhat anxious. “Little immortal maiden, don’t worry. The two of us will swear an oath to you — if we let slip anything of your doings, may our lines die out entirely! We belong to the Jiu Si Tang, and I won’t hide it from you — from the Chief Commander on down, everyone wishes someone could stop that Pang Tu. Rest easy — even if you’ve broken the law, at most a wanted notice will be posted on the city wall, no one will ever actually come to arrest you…”

A wanted notice? Arrest?

Wasn’t that terrifying enough!

The muscles in Qiqian’er’s cheeks twitched. After a long while, she slowly held out her hand. “So you’ve got me figured out. Give me the notices.”

Old Xin was startled, and looked up at her. “What notices?”

Qiqian’er pointed impatiently at the white notices on the ground. “These white notices — I’ll take them!”

A gust of mountain wind swept across Baiquan Mountain, and the tender new leaves on all the trees rustled violently.

Qiqian’er, holding the stack of funeral notices, walked slowly down the mountain. The whole way, she kept thinking, what’s happened to me? Suddenly turning from a housewife into a woman like this — ah… I really am restless by nature! No longer pure and untroubled!

After tomorrow, likely the whole city of Daliang would have my wanted notice posted outside its walls… thinking about it… tomorrow? Which outfit should I wear that looks nice?

But she never saw that, far behind her on a low hill, three men — old and young — cupped their fists and bowed deeply toward her, watching until her figure disappeared.

“Beggar-elder?”

“Hm?”

“Was it really right to drag the little immortal maiden into the martial world?”

“Isn’t she already part of it? From the day her elders opened her meridians and poured in her cultivation, she was destined to belong to the martial world…”

That night, Qiqian’er came out of the grinding room and saw, on the steps in front of the main hall, resting atop a delicate pair of steel armguards, a white mask with three elm leaves painted between the brows… Hmph~ that old fellow, truly leaves nothing to chance, sly old thing.

March 2nd. Within five hundred li around Yandu, the escort agencies turned out in full force — a procession of fifteen ornamented horses came to welcome the guest.

Those ornamented horses gathered at a pavilion twenty li outside the city. Forty brawny men with solid muscles, wearing bare-armed soft armor, carried a massive palanquin, and so they welcomed Pang Tu.

The martial world always felt distant to ordinary folk, and these newly-arrived Qingfeng residents took this crowd for some sort of festive spectacle. Many people came, surrounding them three layers deep, inside and out.

They followed along the whole way, watching as if it were a grand show, escorting Pang Tu and his group slowly toward Qingfeng City.

All along the way — horse bells, whip-cracks, strings of a thousand firecrackers set off every li — the whole procession carried the air of a New Year’s celebration…

Shen Fanjiang rode a pure black warhorse, guarding his master’s palanquin with imposing might. With so many people around, he couldn’t help but call out loudly to his master: “Master! Even when Qingluan Sword Valley’s Gu Hongyun entered the capital back then, it surely wasn’t this magnificent!”

A flash of restrained pride crossed Pang Tu’s eyes, though he gave his impetuous disciple a stern glare.

Shen Fanjiang showed his youthful nature, sticking out his tongue and falling silent, though he remained smug, chin held high, pulling the reins and looking down his nose at people.

And so, they drew closer and closer to Qingfeng City.

By the city gate, the chief escorts of every agency stood guard. Seeing the massive crowd approaching from afar, they lit incense sticks one after another and ran all the way to Pang Tu’s palanquin, setting off strings of thousand-cracker firecrackers, following the crowd along, all sending him into Qingfeng City together…

They walked and walked, until, less than fifty paces from the city gate, suddenly a massive tung-oil-treated pole, a full two zhang tall, came flying down from atop the city tower.

The crowd froze in shock.

That pole, driven deep into the ground by some strange force, once it had steadied, people saw a red death-duel banner from Qingfeng’s dueling platform fluttering atop it.

On the dueling platform, there were three banners: the white banner for a friendly bout, the blue banner where the outcome settles matters in the martial world, and the red banner meant a fight to the death, no quarter given.

This was the red duel-banner Pang Tu had issued to Chen Dasheng.

All the clamor stopped instantly, only the reluctant firecrackers still popping on toward the sky.

Amid the sulfurous smoke everywhere, a woman appeared — hair gathered up, wearing a small jade crown, her face covered by a New Year’s elm-tree spirit mask, feet in tri-colored gold-flowered small boots, dressed in a vivid red robe embroidered all over with gold qilin patterns, fish-scale armguards on both arms — and she slowly leapt down from the top of the pole, cradling a small red-cloth bundle in her arms.

The last firecracker gave one unwilling little pop, and the sudden quiet startled everyone.

Qiqian’er set the red bundle down at the foot of the pole and looked up at the fluttering banner, thinking: Good! Lucky I carried this main pole here myself — this counts as a proper duel on the platform, so it’s not against the law! His Majesty and the others are clever enough, surely they’ll understand.

To be able to carry such an enormous pole, throw it down from atop the city gate tower, and have it land steady and upright in the ground — this was no ordinary person.

Pang Tu, arrogant the whole way, finally showed a change of expression. He slowly stood up, standing in the palanquin, looking at the red-clad woman in the distance. “You there, in front — Pillar That Holds Up Heaven in Service to the Nation, three incense-sticks burned by the halls north and south, long robe or short robe, round collar — I wonder, miss, which robe do you wear, and which stick of incense do you burn? Whose banner’s cause do you serve?”

Qiqian’er absolutely refused to admit she was part of the martial world — she didn’t understand, and had no intention of engaging with such talk. So she looked at Pang Tu earnestly and said, “I’m telling you, you’re not getting through!”

Pang Tu was stunned, and asked reflexively, “Not getting through what?”

Qiqian’er pointed at the city gate behind her. “You’re not getting through!”

Pang Tu was almost laughing with anger — though, the martial world had no shortage of strange talents, and if a woman dared come out and walk this path alone, she generally had some skill behind her, perhaps even a great sect backing her.

So he checked himself, thinking — could it be that I struck too hard this time, and provoked some reclusive old master who rarely comes down from the mountain?

So he cupped his hands and said, “Miss, since you know how hard it is to maintain a mountain sect, you should understand the hardship of those of us who take on patronage. People support us for decades, even a century — if we don’t sacrifice a few lives, how could the patron be satisfied? I see you’re young, miss, surely you’ve been misled by someone. Today~ this Pang must enter the city. If you’re willing to show this courtesy, just report your sect, step aside three feet, and I’ll get down from my palanquin and walk through the city on foot… Tomorrow, Yuegong Mountain will send its thanks!”

All along this road, arrogant as he’d been, Pang Tu was already being quite courteous. As a grandmaster, how could he fail to see Qiqian’er’s formidability?

Unfortunately, everything Pang Tu had just said, Qiqian’er understood none of it. She only knew this man was a bad person, out to harm her child’s father, trying to stop An’er from being born, and killing indiscriminately everywhere, coldly turning so many into widows and orphans.

So she stepped forward and pointed rudely at Pang Tu. “Old beast! Come down here and fight me!”

Well, that was the tone of a housewife pushed to her limit — not cursing his ancestors was already restraint.

Qiqian’er felt a restlessness stirring inside her, her blood boiling, simply suffocating her — finally, she could actually fight…

Pang Tu’s face went white with anger. He gave a cold snort and was about to speak, when he heard someone beside him curse: “Vile wench! Shut your mouth!!”

A silver spear, tip gleaming, flew straight at Qiqian’er.

Pang Tu was alarmed and shouted, “Fanjiang, stop…”

But it was too late — the spear was already headed straight for Qiqian’er’s throat, and it happened in the blink of an eye. The spear-tip arrived right at her face; lately she’d seen enough of these things to make her sick of them. She simply tilted her head slightly, and the tip grazed past her neck. Then, right as the shaft passed the exact right point, she reached out and gave it a pinch — there was a crisp snapping sound, and Shen Fanjiang’s spear broke clean in the middle.

Master and disciple both stood dumbstruck, watching as the woman, holding a broken half-shaft in each hand, shook them fiercely through the air a few times, muttering to herself, “That’s right, I should really have a weapon of my own too. Punching people bare-handed always hurts my hands.”

Having finished muttering, she raised the spearhead-end toward Pang Tu and said, “You villain! I’m going to hit you now, you’d better be ready to take it.”

This was, after all, an honest housewife from an inner household.

There was no dodging this now… Pang Tu’s expression turned gradually grim and cold. He reached out and grabbed his own cone-spear, applying hidden force with his palm — the large red silk wrapped around the spearhead suddenly shattered into dozens of pieces, flying straight at Qiqian’er…

This was the move called “red flowers blinding the eyes,” one of Pang Tu’s signature spear techniques, relying on which he’d ambushed who knew how many opponents.

Qiqian’er felt a chaos of red before her eyes, her vision blurring instantly, and in her ears she heard that villain shout, “My apologies, miss!” followed by the sharp sound of wind being torn apart.

Impressive!

That was Qiqian’er’s instinctive admiration — because neither Zhou Wujiu nor Xie Liuhao had ever given her this kind of feeling. This was a truly fierce thrust, carrying the momentum of a deadly, biting gust straight for her throat.

Qiqian’er, out of habit, leapt backward the instant the spear-tip was an inch from her throat… Pang Tu was a grandmaster — how could his spear’s momentum simply stop halfway? He thrust forward single-handedly, again and again — thrust! thrust! one more thrust!… until he could thrust no further… and still Qiqian’er kept leaping back…

What kind of monster was this?

Cursing inwardly, Pang Tu twisted the spearhead with both hands and, in rapid succession, executed three great wrap-arounds — not aimed at Qiqian’er’s neck this time, but at her arm.

Qiqian’er, after all, lacked experience against high-level opponents. And so, after several crisp clashes, sparks flying in all directions, her newly made robe was torn open with a rather large hole — no matter how it was mended, it would forever show it had once been torn.

Qiqian’er, who had stayed calm this whole time, was now furious! She shouted, “My new robe!!”

Pang Tu was startled by this unprecedented battle-cry — shouldn’t she be saying something like “you’re courting death” or “how despicable,” that sort of thing?

Why was it “my new robe”?

Without a thought for the fact that, had she not had her armguards, she would surely have fallen to Pang Tu’s ambush, Qiqian’er’s mind was now filled only with — it’s him, it’s him, it’s this shameless bastard! If not for him, she’d still be at home holding the keys to the money vault, the grain stores, the silver cellar. She could eat porridge if she wanted porridge, eat solid food if she wanted solid food, lounge in bed if she wanted to lounge, grind flour if she wanted to grind flour — she was the lady managing the household, a proper sixth-rank court-titled lady — if it weren’t for this hateful creature, why would she have been beaten so many times?

In that instant, everything else vanished, all other thoughts gone. Without her golden robe on, her speed increased tenfold as she charged at Pang Tu with the two broken spear-halves.

“You struck-by-lightning old wretch! You degenerate whose ancestral graves got flooded…”

Pang Tu: “…?”

However Pang Tu attacked, blocked, thrust, hooked, or swept — Qiqian’er saw none of it. She simply wielded her two sticks like a small whirlwind, relying only on what little she knew of the human body, remembering the meridian points from that acupuncture bronze figure, and struck at every fitting point on Pang Tu’s body…

Well, those points were, in fact, acupoints.

Anywhere she struck, the result was unbearable numbness, blocked circulation, and a stiffened body.

Near her ear, she seemed to hear something snap. But no matter! What mattered was that her most expensive new robe across two lifetimes was gone — this was, beneath the Wenshen Temple, her favorite bolt of civilian-made red damask, free of dragon-and-phoenix patterns.

And gold-threaded too!!!!

With a qilin pattern!!!!!!!

Pang Tu, thrown off balance by this utterly unorthodox assault, tried to raise his spear to block, to parry, to deflect… but under such overwhelming force, none of it did any good. He’d barely blocked twice before his cone-spearhead was knocked clean off by this madwoman…

Listen to what she was shouting: “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a single good bolt of silk? You have to plant mulberry trees! Pick mulberry leaves…”

Pang Tu was sent flying, crashing straight into the palanquin frame, smashing it to pieces. The group of burly men, badly frightened, scattered in all directions…

Qiqian’er leapt after him, continuing to strike: “Even the Book of Rites says it — before picking mulberry leaves, the imperial consorts themselves must fast and personally tend the eastern mulberry fields!! And who do you think you are, daring to tear my robe!!”

With two ribs broken in a row, Pang Tu spat out a mouthful of blood, reached out and took the new spear his disciple Shen Fanjiang threw to him to block — sparks flew everywhere, and the new spearhead was knocked off too…

The madwoman turned her head and spotted the one who’d handed him the spear. In the blink of an eye she abandoned Pang Tu and lunged over — a few quick smacks, and Shen Fanjiang had both arms and legs broken by Qiqian’er.

“Bah! You crooked-beam-crooked-rafter piece of work!!”

Trouble dealt with, she turned back to continue her one-sided beating of poor Pang Tu, who by now had half his teeth knocked out, mouth full of blood, rolling on the ground. Everything he’d ever endured in the martial world combined didn’t add up to the strength of this monster!

Every technique he’d ever received, none of it was as chaotic as this. This person had no technique whatsoever — it was pure wild flailing, and yet he simply couldn’t block it!

This wasn’t human — this was a madwoman! A monster!

Old beggar Xin, Zhou Wujiu, and Xie Liuhao crouched trembling atop the ruined Qingfeng city tower, shaking.

Xie Liuhao complained to Old Xin: “Her, her like this… how, how did we ever dare beat her every day? What grudge did we even have? You! You wanted to harm me? You’ve dug my grave!! One day she’ll realize she took all those beatings for nothing…”

Old Xin pursed his lips, swallowing hard! After a long while he finally stammered, “Old, old man here, I, I really didn’t know either… what lineage is this? Never seen anything like it!”

Zhou Wujiu, normally a quiet and steady man, simply watched silently, his teeth chattering as he turned to question Old Xin: “You, you had people beat her, you, you even ate her four sheep… If she hadn’t listened to you back then, what if she’d fought back and hit me and Sixth Brother instead?”

The three of them, seeing Pang Tu’s miserable state and imagining the consequences, all shuddered at once.

Outside the city, Qiqian’er was still swinging away, venting as she went: “Planting mulberries! Raising silkworms! Reeling silk! Twisting thread! Combining threads! Setting up the warp! Weaving cloth, shuttle by shuttle! Thread by thread! Inch by inch, foot by foot! How many days and nights does it take to make one bolt of cloth!! You thousand-cuts bastard, you struck-by-lightning son of a bitch!! What gives you the right to turn people into widows and orphans… answer me!”

She finally couldn’t swing anymore, and stood in place panting hard for a while, cursing brokenly, “You struck-by-lightning bastard! Such nerve, daring to sever my own root…”

When she finished cursing, finished venting, and looked again at Pang Tu lying motionless on the ground, a bloody mess, and heard Shen Fanjiang’s heart-rending wails from over there, Qiqian’er let out a hiccup… eh~ what now?

She looked around, and everyone stood frozen like clay idols in a temple, staring at her. Only then did she remember who she was, and her fingers loosened, dropping the two spear-halves to the ground… had she just killed someone?

Qiqian’er’s eyes darted around, and she turned and walked to the base of the flagpole, took the red bundle and opened it — it was an entire bundle of white funeral notices.

She had originally intended to have a serious talk with him about how to be a decent person — who knew he’d ambush her?

Holding the thick stack of funeral notices, Qiqian’er walked up to the bloody, mangled Pang Tu, and from head to toe, covered him evenly with the notices!

Having finally finished, Qiqian’er clapped her hands, turned, and walked away, thinking as she went — well, call it a feud of the martial world then, either way it wasn’t me who did it.

So many funeral notices, so many grieving families — let the court go after whoever it wants, it wasn’t me who did it. My An’er! He must grow up to be the young master of an official family, the son of a great court minister…

Spring rain suddenly began to fall, and that brilliant red figure leapt two zhang high, heading deeper into Baiquan Mountain…